He took it from her, put it down, and then did what he always wanted to do when she walked into the room. Silas kissed the hell out of her.
“Wow,” she said, eyes wide and bright, when he finally pulled back.
“Preview of dessert,” he promised and led the way into the kitchen.
“I don’t mean to look a gift penis in the mouth, but you did promise me an actual dessert,” she reminded him.
“There’s pie,” he promised. “I bribed Dad into making it by promising to spend a Saturday in his garden with him. His apple crumb pie is a religious experience, which is why we’ll be eating it in bed. After.” He gave her his best lecherous look.
She laughed. “After-sex pie. You, Silas Wright, are one-of-a-kind.”
He got a mason jar out of the cabinet and handed it to Maggie. “You get our centerpiece organized while I start dinner.”
They worked companionably in the tight space of his kitchen and filled each other in on their days.
Silas told her about the client in Abileen who scheduled his crew for the weeding, mulching, and trimming in his backyard when his next-door neighbor was away on vacation. The neighbor was apparently an attractive woman in her early sixties who was into gardening. The client was a recently retired single guy with a black thumb who was working up his nerve to ask her out.
Maggie was making progress in the third-floor bathrooms. The shower surround and new toilet were in place in the hallway bathroom, and the tile and vanity were ready to be picked up for one of the attached baths.
“I got a whole twenty minutes in there this afternoon before Keaton found me, and then Jim needed me for an almost-emergency, and then Dean demanded that I reshoot a one-on-one that didn’t have a chorus of circular saws in the background,” she told him. “Oh, and in the middle of all that, Wallace wanted to show me sixty pages of Campbell family scrapbooks he had Cody haul down from the secret room.”
Plate of steaks in hand, Silas nudged her toward the back door, and they moved their catch-up to the covered deck. “Anything noteworthy in the scrapbooks?” he asked.
“Not unless you count Wallace’s commentary on hemlines noteworthy.”
While he put the steaks on the grill, she grabbed the box of treasures and two beers before settling in a chair at the small table. “I talked to Dean today,” she said innocently, unpacking the box’s contents.
He looked up from the sizzling meat. “I talked to Michael today.”
They both grinned and left it at that.
He turned down the heat on the grill and joined her at the table. “How did Cody’s finals go?” he asked.
“We think they went well,” she said, handing him a photo in a protective plastic sheet. It was of three women in gowns staring at the camera. They were in some sort of fancy-looking drawing room, a fireplace and an octagonal window behind them. There was a fourth woman—or girl—dressed in a plain, high-necked gown standing off to the side. “He’s nervous, especially about the science exam, since it was comprehensive. But Dayana turned out to be a damn good tutor and helped him cram. Flip it over,” she instructed.
Silas did as he was told and saw the inscription written in a tight, loopy scrawl.
The Palmer Sisters and their lady’s maid.
There was a name after the word maid, but the ink was smudged. It looked like Ann or Anna.
“Did Cody get his grades yet?” he asked.
“The last three should be posted tonight,” Maggie told him. She handed him a page, in its own protective sheet, of the manuscript they’d found on the desk. “He promised to text as soon as he knows. He’s scared to death, but I feel good about it. He worked hard.”
“Well, get your party hats ready,” he said.
She leaned in and gripped his arm. “Do you have inside information? Does your dad know if Cody passed?”
“I may have asked him to hunt down a few of the late graders this afternoon.”
She surprised him by jumping out of her chair and throwing her arms around him. “Oh my God. He did it! He’s going to be thrilled. Now we definitely have to have a party. Did I tell you I was thinking about throwing a party?”
“You did. And we are. I already asked Mama B if she can make her pierogies.”
“We can have it at the house, and now that it’s official, he can ask his mom if she’ll come.” Maggie pulled out her phone to start making a list.
Silas covered the screen with his hand. “Uh-uh. No phones at the table during quality catch-up time,” he insisted. He took the phone, stuffed it in his pocket, and returned to the grill to flip the steaks.